Minor Details
by Schattengestalt
Summary: John has convinced himself that Sherlock isn't interested in romantic relationships. When Sherlock proves his assumptions wrong, John's world is turned upside down. Johnlock.
1. Old Habits

**Author Notes: **I didn't realise how long it has been since I posted my last story until I checked the date today.^^" University ate up all of my time but at least I have some free time now.

This story is cut into three chapters and I plan on posting every week. :) Enjoy!

**Old Habits**

Sherlock was watching him. John didn't even have to look up from his book to know this assessment to be true. He could practically feel his friend's eyes on him as he flipped a page of his crime novel.

When they had first moved in together Sherlock's tendency to stare at him had had John on edge. He had waited with bated breath for his friend to deduce him to within an inch of his life and to bring every one of John's secrets to light. It had never happened though. Sure, Sherlock had blurted out deductions about John's sister, his sexual preferences and his financial situation on various occasions but that didn't bother him... too much. Admittedly, he hadn't been thrilled when Sherlock had announced in front of the whole of Scotland Yard that there was no need for John to check out the new Sergeant because he was happily married.

John would admit freely that he was interested in men and women if someone asked him but he hadn't planned on broadcasting it to every detective in London. So, John hadn't been pleased with Sherlock back then... until he had got some very obvious invitations from various officers of Scotland Yard. He hadn't accepted them but they had certainly done something for his ego.

All in all nothing too bad had ever come of Sherlock's deductions when he decided on analyzing John. Therefore John let his friend stare at him to his heart's content while pretending that he didn't notice the eyes that were focused on him. A task that had become harder since Sherlock had returned from his faked death a few months ago.

John wasn't sure what had changed since then but it had become more challenging to ignore his friend's stare and carry on like he wasn't watched by the most observant man in the world. Maybe John had lost some of his immunity to being observed like this in the two years that he had believed his friend dead. Or his slight discomfort at being watched had come with the acknowledgement of his feelings for said friend. It had been much easier to admit to himself that Sherlock was more than a friend - even a best friend - to him when John had believed that he would never get the chance to confess his feelings to Sherlock. But after John had found the courage to allow himself to see that he loved Sherlock, there was no way of burying these feelings again. And so, every time John felt Sherlock's piercing gaze on him his heart jumped in his chest as he waited for his friend to figure out his final secret. If John was in an optimistic mood he even dared hoping that Sherlock would return his love. He would list all the evidence that suggested that he was more than a mere friend to Sherlock and then wait for the brilliant detective to say something. He never did though.

John sighed inwardly as he stared at the page of his novel without taking in any of the words that were written on it. Sherlock was still watching him and John fidgeted on his chair before he forced himself to sit still once more. He should probably stop hoping and waiting for the impossible to happen. Sherlock had made it more than clear that he wasn't interested in romantic and sexual relationships when they had first met. He had never gone out with anyone for as long as John had known him or even given the slightest indication that he would like to date someone at all.

Yes, it would probably be healthier for John to stop pinning after his uninterested friend and look somewhere else for a partner but... he didn't want to. Years ago the notion of settling down with someone and maybe even starting a family had sounded promising but John couldn't imagine a life away from Baker Street anymore. Hell, he couldn't imagine a life without human body parts in the fridge and violin concerts at three in the morning. He was completely screwed, John realised with small smile as he turned the page of his book.

"Why are you turning the page?"

John jumped in his armchair a little at the unexpected question and looked up to meet Sherlock's inquiring gaze. "That's what people do when they are reading, they turn pages. If you wouldn't read everything on your computer or E-book reader you might know that."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "Usually people also finish reading a page before they start on the next one. You have just stared at the words for five minutes without taking in what they mean. Not that I blame you for it," Sherlock's eyes flickered to the novel with a look full of disgust, "The story is utterly predictable after all. Even you should have figured out by now that the maid murdered the Earl and all his relatives because she was his illegitimate daughter and hoping to inherit his fortune but still... Oh."

John ignored Sherlock's disappointed look as he closed the book with a sigh. At least this time he had managed to read through half of it before his friend had spoiled the story for him.

"That doesn't make sense," John heard Sherlock mutter, "If you hadn't figured out the plot why where you skipping pages at all?"

John sighed and rolled his eyes at the same time. He was always amazed how Sherlock could pick out the tiniest detail to unravel a case but it was rather annoying when his friend got obsessed with the most unimportant details of their day to day life.

"How do you expect me to concentrate on reading while you stare at me from across the room?"

The words were out before John could snap his mouth shut. In all the time they had lived together he had never called Sherlock out on his strange staring habit. At first for fear of what deductions his words would provoke and later because he had grown used to it. And now... all bets were off when Sherlock's eyes first widened in surprise before the emotion was replaced by curiosity.

A curious Sherlock was a dangerous one as he always tended to poke at his newest interest until he had unravelled all its secrets. Not that John thought that he still had many secrets left to hide from his best friend but still... He would rather not have Sherlock figure out his feelings for him only to reject him.

"You have noticed me watching you." Sherlock got up from where he had sat at the kitchen table and moved across the room to stand in front of John's chair. He reminded John of a black panther on the hunt. Graceful and deadly at once as he gazed down at John who fought the urge to hide behind his book. Instead he returned Sherlock's inquiring look.

"It's rather impossible not to notice you looking at me like you are trying to locate and steal my soul."

"Interesting," Sherlock murmured to himself and John sighed inwardly. He had hoped to distract his friend with the mention of souls and preferably get him into a rant about why such a thing didn't exist at all. It had worked before when John had thrown out one of Sherlock's mould experiments. This time though he wasn't so lucky. An offensive tactic seemed the only option left as Sherlock appeared ready to inform John of his newest deduction as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Why are you always staring at me?"

Sherlock blinked once but the question didn't throw him for a loop like John had hoped it would. He neither looked guilty nor embarrassed but rather disappointed like the answer should be clear to John.

"To collect data of course."

"You don't think you have collected all the data you need about me by now?"

"Yes and no but," Sherlock faltered for a second and John frowned as uncertainty and nervousness flickered over his friend's face before the emotions were replaced with determination. "There is something I can't figure out."

"What?"

"What would you do if I did this?"

"This?" John managed to get out before his lips were caught in a kiss. His mind barely had the time to register what was happening as Sherlock claimed his mouth in a brief yet passionate kiss before he withdrew again.

"What..." John touched his fingers to his still tingling lips as he stared up at his friend. If Sherlock weren't looking like a guilty schoolboy John wouldn't believe his own memory. But there was no doubt. Sherlock had kissed him. He had taken the first step and kissed him while John hadn't even known that this option was on the table. Obviously he had been wrong with his assumptions that Sherlock wasn't interested in anyone. It appeared that he was interested in one person at least. In him. While trying to process this information John almost missed the look of utter panic on Sherlock's face as his friend took a hasty step back.

"I am sorry, John. I miscalculated... I should have known better. Let's just forget it... please."

John frowned up at his friend in confusion. What was he talking about? Why was he apologizing? Yes, he had kissed John without his explicit permission but it wasn't like John minded. On the contrary, he was very much in favour of kissing his friend.

_"Then you should probably let Sherlock know that as well, Watson," _his mind informed him in an annoyed voice and John's eyes widened in understanding. He was just sitting here frozen as if in shock after Sherlock had found the courage to kiss him. Of course, Sherlock would think that his advances weren't welcome.

"Sherlock," John interrupted his friend and got up from his chair before he had even formulated what he wanted to say. He just knew that he had to stop his friend from coming to the wrong conclusion.

"Just delete what happened." There was a pleading note in Sherlock's voice that John hated to hear. And he also didn't like the way his friend flinched away from him as John took another step in his direction. It made him wonder if someone in Sherlock's past had rejected him with more than just words. He gulped down the anger that threatened to overcome him at the mere idea that some bastard had beaten Sherlock up for being brave enough to admit his feelings for them.

_"Down, Watson! That's not the time to plan to revenge your friend. Just tell him how you feel before he balks!"_

"You know I can't delete anything like you do." John tried for a light tone but his words only made Sherlock look more panicked.

"I didn't think... I mean I thought that you would want... but obviously not with me. I should have known. I... can we still stay friends, please?"

John's heart broke a little with each word and almost shattered at Sherlock's last plea. Someone had a lot to answer for but that wasn't for today.

"Sherlock," John took another step towards his friend and slowly extended his hand to stroke his arm. He sighed inwardly with relief when Sherlock didn't flinch away from his touch. "You weren't wrong. I want to kiss you and to be with you... if that's what you want as well."

There was no telling if Sherlock wanted exactly the same as John did. Yes, he had kissed him but that still didn't meant that they were on the same page. They certainly had some talking to do but for now John was relieved when the fear and panic in Sherlock's face was replaced by wonder and hope.

"You... want to kiss me?"

John would have laughed at the disbelief in his friend's voice if it wasn't so heartbreaking to hear. He settled for a short nod and a smile instead.

"Really?" Doubt was still lingering in Sherlock's voice and John could only think of one way to chase it away.

This time his mind registered how soft and warm Sherlock's lips were as John claimed them with his own. He forced himself not to linger for more than a few seconds even as everything in him screamed to deepen the kiss. They could kiss for hours later on but for now it was more important that Sherlock got the message.

"Alright?" John whispered as he withdrew.

"Yes... more than alright. Again please."

John smiled and pressed a chaste peck to Sherlock's lips. "We should really talk first before we..."

"Boring!"

John wasn't sure if he should sigh or smile at hearing Sherlock's impatient and confident tone. It was a vast improvement to having his friend panicking in their living-room but John also didn't want to rush anything. It would do neither of them any good if they got crushed by wrong assumptions and too high expectations after they had waited so long to even reach this point. Before John could even voice any of these reasons Sherlock had already started talking.

"You are worried that we aren't on the same page and that we will ruin what we already have if we don't talk about it."

"Well yes..."

"Don't be! I want to enter into a monogamous, romantic relationship with you that also includes sexual intercourse and I am 99.3 % positive that this is exactly what you want too."

"Yes but..."

"Then there is nothing more to talk about. We can negotiate the details when it becomes necessary but from what I have deduced I am certain that we will be compatible in the bedroom."

"That's..." John didn't know what to say as he met the expectant - and impatient - look of his friend. Sherlock had covered all the basics that John had wanted to talk about and he was right that they were on the same page. But still there was a tiny detail that John still needed to discuss even if it proved to be unnecessary.

"There is still something..."

"Please John," Sherlock interrupted him with an exasperated roll of his eyes, "Do you really think there is anything that I haven't deduced about you already?"

"You weren't sure how I would feel about kissing you," John pointed out but felt his resolve crumble at the same time.

"Inconclusive data but everything else is obvious to me. So, can we just go back to kissing now or... do you need to know anything about me?"

The tiniest bit of insecurity flickered across Sherlock's face and John shook his head. He understood that Sherlock was asking if John wanted to know about his past lovers and while John was curious it didn't seem like the right time to ask. There would be plenty of opportunities to talk about this sort of thing but for now the prospect of kissing Sherlock sounded much better. Especially when John was now certain that his friend - boyfriend - wouldn't be surprised by anything later on.

"You win," John muttered fondly and leaned up to seal Sherlock's lips in a kiss before his friend could come up with a smart retort.

They started out slowly with just their lips pressed together and moving against each other before the kiss turned more passionate as their tongues came into play. Sherlock tasted of coffee and chocolates as John licked into his mouth and he believed that he could become addicted to this taste. He settled his right hand on Sherlock's waist and buried his other hand in the hair at his nape to hold him closer. John cursed his height - or rather their height difference - as Sherlock's hands settled on his shoulder and back and drew him even closer. While it felt awesome to finally be this close to Sherlock and to feel the warmth of his body it also made kissing more complicated as he had to crane his neck even further. Already, John felt the muscles in his neck and calves protesting the position they were held in but he didn't want to interrupt their kiss just know. A little discomfort was nothing in comparison to the joy that John felt at nipping, sucking and kissing Sherlock's lips while they were pressed close together. Still, they could probably do with a change of place. The sofa would give them the chance to find a more comfortable position. And they might even...

"Holy shit!"

John and Sherlock both jumped at the exclamation and turned in union to find a flabbergast DI staring at them from the doorway of their flat.

"You two..."

"Yes, John and I are together. No, it's not been for long. No, I am not interested in whatever case you have for me. Yes, I would like you to close the door when you leave."

"Now hold on, Sherlock!"

John couldn't hold it against Sherlock when his friend sighed in annoyance. Usually, he was glad when Greg came by to bring them a case but today the timing was terrible.

"I told you I am not interested. John and I have plans!"

John barely managed to contain his laughter at the way the DI fidgeted nervously at Sherlock's blunt words but he still didn't leave. Instead he moved further into the room and held out a folder to them.

"A young woman was murdered at home. Her six-year old daughter is missing. She has asthma and her medication is still at her Mum's flat."

John felt a pang of worry and empathy as Greg laid out the bare facts of the case. It didn't sound like the cases Sherlock usually took - not enough mystery at first glance - but John still hoped that his friend would take it. There might be a simple explanation for everything and the child would be safe in a couple of hours. And if there wasn't... then the case would turn out to be right up Sherlock's street and it would take longer until they would be free to continue what they had started. Still John believed that it would be worth the wait if they got to safe a child. He was just about to say as much when Sherlock sighed next to him.

"Well played, Lestrade. You know that John has a soft spot for children and now I have to take the case if I even want to have the slightest chance of taking him to bed in the foreseeable future."

John snorted at that even as he jabbed Sherlock in the ribs to stop him from making any more comments of that sort. It wouldn't help them if Greg passed out from embarrassment before they had got to the crime scene.

"Text me the address and we will follow you in a taxi. And leave the folder."

John waited for Greg to protest Sherlock's order but in the end the DI just sighed and handed over the folder before he turned to leave. "Don't take too long."

Neither one of them replied to that as they both waited for the DI to descend the staircase before they were at each other again. It was a short but passionate kiss that held the promise of more as soon as they had solved the case.

"Thank you," John felt the need to say as they slipped into their coats but Sherlock only shook his head. "No need for that. The case might even be interesting and besides," Sherlock leaned down to press a kiss to John's forehead, "If you weren't worried about the child you wouldn't be the man I... want to kiss."

John smiled at the unspoken words and how Sherlock ducked his head as he started down the stairs.

"I want to kiss you, too," John called out as he hurried after his friend and caught the happy smile on his friend's face. God, he really hoped that this case would be solved quickly.

OOO

"Anything yet, Sherlock?"

John rolled his eyes at Greg's question even as Sherlock ignored the DI and kept on inspecting the crime scene. It was obvious that the police wanted to clear the scene and bring the body to the morgue but since they had asked Sherlock to consult on the case they could at least have the decency not to rush him.

John crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at Sally who looked like she was about to make a stupid comment about Sherlock. Honestly, he had wanted his friend to take the case but that didn't mean that John couldn't be annoyed by it at the same time. Yes, he wanted to find the girl and make sure that she was safe but... he also wanted to go home and snog Sherlock senseless. A few more hours of waiting shouldn't matter after pinning hopelessly after his friend for years but... they appeared to make all the difference in the world.

John stole a glance at Sherlock who was inspecting the doorframe to the children's bedroom and then forced himself to take another look at the body. If he kept on staring at Sherlock he just made himself feel like a kid in a sweet shop who wasn't allowed to buy anything.

His eyes swept over the body of the woman. Killed by a single blow to the head. No abnormalities that would make this case mysterious. If it hadn't been for the missing child everyone would have just assumed that she had been the unfortunate victim of a robbery. The flat certainly looked like someone had searched it for valuables.

John frowned down at the body. Something was wrong. Something besides the fact that a young woman had been killed in her own home. John kneeled down next to her head and let his eyes wander over the side of her face until the realisation finally popped up in his mind.

"Sherlock!"

"What is it, John?"

He ignored the annoyed tone of his friend's voice as Sherlock stepped up behind him. They were both in a bad mood right now. There was no use in making it worse by pointing out something this obvious.

"She isn't wearing earrings." John pointed at the ears of the dead woman and Sherlock sighed behind him.

"Great deduction, John. She isn't wearing earrings because her ears aren't pierced at all."

"She is wearing some in the picture of her daughter and her though," John reminded his friend and ignored his remark. "It seemed strange to me but maybe she is just wearing some sort of ear clips in the picture and..."

"No!"

John almost stumbled in his hurry to turn around at his friend's exclamation. Sherlock wore that look that meant that he had just made a deduction. Hopefully, it was one that would solve this case and get them back home to Baker Street in the next hour.

"John Watson, you are a marvel!" Sherlock beamed at him and then to John's surprise - and everyone else's - he kissed him hard on the lips.

"Whoa there!"

"I always knew that you get off on crime scenes but keep it in your pants till you are home, Freak!"

"Don't you dare call him that!" John glared across the room at Sally who wore a look of utter disgust on her face as she met his gaze. Fine, it wasn't perfectly normal to kiss right next to a corpse but that still didn't give Sally the right to call Sherlock names. Especially not after she had been proven time and time again that she had been wrong about him all along. John was just about to remind her of the part she had played in Moriarty's game to discredit Sherlock but his friend was faster than him.

"Don't waste your breath on them, John. Considering that they can't even identify a corpse correctly, I doubt that they would understand your reasoning." Sherlock bared his teeth in a humourless grin as he regarded the officers of Scotland Yard. "This woman," Sherlock pointed at the body, "Isn't Sophia Greengrass. Also, her daughter isn't missing but on a holiday trip with her mother. I assume they have gone to someplace warm considering that there aren't any summer clothes in their wardrobes. You will have to check their emails to find out where exactly they are but even you might be able to manage that."

"Hold on a sec!" Greg came up to them and pointed at the body. "If this isn't Ms. Greengrass then who is it? And what about the medication of the girl?"

John was grateful that he hadn't asked the exact same questions as he hated to be on the receiving end of Sherlock's disappointed looks.

"Obviously they left some medication at the flat and took some with them. Just ask at their local pharmacy and they will tell you as much. And the woman... Really Lestrade, is it so hard to deduce who she is? Considering that she looks exactly like Ms. Greengrass but isn't her."

"Twins!" John breathed in surprise before Greg could even open his mouth. "But you said it's never twins," he added to Sherlock who only shrugged.

"There is always an exception to each rule. Now that we have established that the child is safe and Scotland Yard a hotbed for incompetence, we will be on our way."

Usually, John was quick to apologize to the police officers when they became the victims of his friend's scorn but this time he didn't even spare them a single glance as he followed Sherlock out of the flat. He was still angry at Sally for her comments about Sherlock and while he liked Greg, John couldn't help but hold it against him that he had ruined their evening. He could be exploring Sherlock's body by now if the DI hadn't baited them with a presumed missing child. Really, John started to understand why his friend didn't think much of the police force. They not only didn't do their job correctly but they also expected Sherlock to solve their cases for them although they didn't even pay him for his help. And if this wasn't bad enough they then even dared to rush and insult him because they didn't see him as more than a useful tool.

"Stop that or you will damage your teeth."

John startled at the touch of a warm finger to his chin and only then realised that he had gnashed his teeth. He relaxed his jaw and a second later frowned at their surroundings. They weren't at the crime scene anymore but in a part of the surrounding neighbourhood. The shabby part of the neighbourhood judging by the graffiti on the walls with the crumbling plastering. John hadn't even noticed where they had been going. He had simply followed Sherlock and allowed his anger to control his thoughts.

The realisation came as a surprise. As far as John could remember he had always paid close attention to his surroundings. The habit hadn't only formed during his time in the military but years before he had ever considered signing up. The neighbourhood his family had lived in couldn't be called _nice _by any measurements and his parents had always impressed upon Harry and him to pay attention to their surroundings. They had been told to never wander the streets alone at night and to always keep something in hand to defend themselves with. Nothing had ever happened to them but the lessons were hard to forget and John still found himself looking over his shoulder from time to time when he was walking around London at night. Obviously not though when Sherlock was at his side. John blinked slowly up at his friend who was watching him with a curious look on his face.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Can't you deduce it?" John laughed quietly when Sherlock wrinkled his nose at that and squeezed his shoulder in apology. "I just realised that it's easy for me to not pay attention to where I am going when I am with you."

There was no need to further explain why such a realisation was surprising and Sherlock's eyes softened. "That's because you trust me just as much as I trust you."

It was so simple and yet so true. They had both come to trust and rely on each other's strengths. Nothing more and nothing less. John smiled and leaned up on his tiptoes to breathe a gentle kiss to Sherlock's lips.

"Let's go to the main road and find a cab to get home."

The words carried an unspoken promise and Sherlock nodded eagerly as he reached for John's hand to intertwine their fingers. "It's just a five minutes' walk to the next bigger street. We will be home in about thirty minutes - twenty-five if all the streetlights are green."

John grinned up at Sherlock at this exact calculations. Only half an hour to go and he would finally be able to take this beautiful genius to bed. But as was so often the problem with plans, they didn't stand a chance against reality. John noticed them first. Four men that were trailing them. He doubted that they merely wanted to ask for directions.

"Sherlock," he whispered under his breath as he carried on walking calmly.

"I noticed," Sherlock murmured back just as quietly, "Do you prefer to run or to fight?"

It was an easy decision to make. They were only a fast sprint away from one of the bigger roads. They would be safe as soon as they were in a better lit part of town. John opened his mouth to inform Sherlock to get ready to run when he was rudely interrupted.

"Hey fags! Out for a nightly stroll around town?! Haven't you forgotten your heels and dresses at home?! Our streets not nice enough for you to dress up, cocksuckers?!"

John stopped dead in his track and slowly turned around to face the young men. He noticed Sherlock mimicking his movement as he assessed the group of four calmly. Four men in their twenties used to street fights but without any real combat experience judging from their posture. At least two of them were carrying a knife though and they all appeared to wear some kind of knuckle-dusters from the way they held their respective strong hand.

"There is no need for such language, Gentlemen." Sherlock's words earned him snorts and laughter.

"Gentlemen! We are not part of your freak club, faggot. We don't want people like you in our streets."

Idiots, John thought as he let go of Sherlock's hand and shifted his weight to his left. If they had stayed quiet there would have been no need for anyone to get hurt but John couldn't run away from such insults. He had heard them - and worse - one time too often in his time and he wouldn't let some bastards get away with saying them to his face.

"Why? Are you afraid that the temptation to join us gets too strong?"

"You motherfucking cocksucker! I will teach you a lesson."

"Doubtful," Sherlock mouthed to John and nodded to the two men to their right before turning towards the other two.

John didn't wait for them to come at him but attacked first. His first target was the spokesman - and probably leader - of the group. It was almost too easy to land a punch against his solar plexus and then disarm him with a strike to his arm. The knife fell to the ground and John kicked it away before aiming a kick to the man's kidney area.

"Fuck you!"

John didn't have the time to reply as the other guy decided to take his luck when his boss was already down. He managed to land a hit to his shoulder before John got the chance to block him.

"Bastard!" John pressed out through clenched teeth as his old wound protested against the abuse. He had been right about the knuckle-dusters and he didn't fancy getting hit with them again. It was easier to avoid than one might think. John took a step back as the man charged at him again. All John needed to do was grab the arm of his attacker and turn sideways and his own speed earned him a hard landing on the ground. An ugly grin spread over John's face as the air was pressed out of the man's lungs upon impact. He sure hoped that his bruises would remind him of this night for weeks.

"John!"

The grin vanished from his face at the choked cry. His vision turned red as he took in the scene a few meters from him. One of Sherlock's attackers lay blacked out on the ground but the other one was making a decent effort of strangling his friend with his own scarf.

John didn't stop to think as he all but ran to Sherlock's aid. A burning pain in his arm registered somewhere in John's mind and then the man was on the ground after a well-placed hit to his temple. John might have added a few broken ribs to his injuries if it hadn't been for Sherlock's coughing fit that brought him out of his rage. He dropped down to his knees next to his friend who was greedily gasping for air.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine." Pained blue eyes glanced up at John. "Thank you, I miscalculated."

"No problem. Can you walk?" When Sherlock nodded John took one last glance at their attackers - none of whom had got up yet - and then gestured in the direction of the road. "Let's get out of here then."

They didn't speak again until they had reached a big road with lots of traffic and a high chance to get a cab. John leaned against a streetlight as he waited for Sherlock to work his magic and hail them a taxi. He just wanted to go home and take a hot shower before falling in bed with Sherlock although John wasn't certain if anything besides sleep was going to happen today. It wasn't that he didn't want to have sex with Sherlock anymore but he was exhausted and... his arm hurt.

John peeked at his left arm and groaned in annoyance when he noticed the tear in his new leather jacket. The bastard had caught him with his knife. He peeled the fabric aside to take a look at the skin underneath. There was a long but shallow cut along his forearm. The wound had already crusted over so no major blood vessels had been hurt. Still, John would have to clean and dress the wound at home. He had no illusions about how annoying working with this arm would be for the next week.

"John!"

He glanced up to see Sherlock holding the door to a taxi open for him and smiled in relief as he took his place next to his friend.

"221b Baker Street," Sherlock informed the driver and then they both just leaned back in their seats and waited to finally get back home.


	2. Fast Pace

**Author Notes:** As promised the second chapter of this story. The third and final one will be posted next week. :)

A little warning: There is smut in this chapter so don't read it if you don't like it.

And now: Enjoy!

**Fast Pace**

"You got hurt."

John shrugged in reply to Sherlock's deduction. "It's just a scratch."

There was no reply forthcoming from his friend and therefore John got back to assessing how deep the cut was. He had taken off his jacket and button-down right away in their living-room to take a look at the wound. It wasn't looking so bad. Yes, it was a long cut but it was even more shallow than he had thought at first. The knife had barely pierced the first layer of the skin. John could safely take a shower first before bandaging the wound - just to be on the safe side.

"I am sorry."

John almost stumbled over his feet in his haste to turn around at hearing these unusual words from Sherlock. He winced slightly as his shoulder gave a painful twinge at the movement. That bastard had really hit the worst possible spot imaginable with his ill-aimed punch. John should probably get a massage scheduled in the next few days to help with the healing. But first things first.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because you got hurt," Sherlock murmured to the floor and John shook his head in disbelief. "You weren't the one who hurt me so there is no need for you to apologize."

At that Sherlock's head snapped up and determined yet haunted eyes met John's. "If I hadn't been so stupid as to leave my scarf on or if I had used a different fighting technique..."

"And if I had just ignored this shitheads we wouldn't even have got into a fight in the first place," John interrupted his friend's apology and smiled ruefully. "Let's just say we both made a miscalculation and call it a day."

When Sherlock just stared at him in astonishment instead of replying, John started to wonder if his friend was so used to being blamed for everything that went wrong that he didn't even question it anymore. It didn't matter if they worked for the police or for private clients if something went wrong, Sherlock was always the one who got blamed. Sometimes Sherlock truly was to blame for a plan gone wrong but more often than not the outcome was out of his hands. John had always thought it a little unfair but now he also pondered if that was the reason why Sherlock so rarely apologized. It might just be an act of rebellion because everyone always expected him to feel remorse for his actions.

John blinked at this unexpected insight but pushed it aside for now to be analyzed at a later point. It was much too late for such deep thoughts. Therefore he didn't mention any of it as he crossed the space between Sherlock and him and reached for the blue scarf that still covered his friend's neck.

"May I take a look?"

When Sherlock nodded his consent John unwound the scarf and revealed pale unmarred skin. He gently touched Sherlock's neck to check if they needed to make a trip to the A&E but he didn't feel anything out of the ordinary.

"It will probably bruise in a day or two but nothing worse should come of it."

"Everyone will think we are up to kinky stuff then." Sherlock's voice was still hoarse but John was glad to hear the amusement resonate in it. It seemed like they were past the awkward apologies then.

"Who knows, maybe I have a whole wardrobe of sex toys and bondage equipment upstairs."

"No, you don't!"

John couldn't hold back the laugh at Sherlock's frantic exclamation and the light blush that coloured his cheeks as he stared at him. If someone had told him this morning that he was going to joke about sex with Sherlock in the evening, he would have called them a fool. Even when John had day-dreamed about a relationship with his friend he had never imagined that they would talk about sex so openly so fast. Actually, it shouldn't really surprise him. They were both grown men after all and John had always had a crude sense of humour. Somehow he must have confused Sherlock's lack of interest in sex and relationships for innocence. There was still no saying how much experience his friend had but John was positive that they would make it work.

"You don't own any sex toys and you are neither a sadist nor a masochist. You are an attentive lover and while you enjoy to tease your partners and don't mind a blindfold or a feather in bed, you don't have any extreme kinks to speak of."

Sherlock snapped his mouth shut with a snap. A look of horror crossed his face and John was torn for a second as to what to do. Somehow this outburst had sounded more like his friend was trying to convince himself that John wasn't into anything hardcore than one of his usual deductions. Questions started to form and swirl around in John's mind but he pushed them away. Neither one of them was in the mood for a heart-to-heart talk tonight and John also doubted that Sherlock would answer any direct questions. And maybe - hopefully - John's mind was just playing tricks on him and Sherlock was only panicking because he feared that his deductions had angered John.

"Either you are more of a genius than I thought or I should check the lock on my door," John teased and leaned up to press a kiss to upturning lips. "Feel free to take a look around my room while I shower. Maybe you will find something interesting." John winked at his friend - soon to be lover - and finally hurried to the bathroom. He really needed to take a shower to get the sweat off his body and relax his muscles a bit. It would probably be a good idea to soak in a hot bath for half an hour but John decided against it as he got rid of his remaining clothes and climbed into the shower. His shoulder would certainly give him hell for this decision in the morning but John didn't care. He only wanted to get back to Sherlock as fast as possible without any unnecessary delay. Even if it turned out that they both or one of them was too exhausted to do anything besides sleeping, John still intended to take full advantage of being allowed to share a bed with Sherlock for the first time.

The water was still cold when he stepped under the spray but John just clenched his teeth and reached for the shower gel. Usually John preferred to linger in the shower but he forewent this luxury for an efficient and quick shower just like he had done back in his army days.

The water had only become lukewarm by the time John turned it off and climbed out of the shower. He went through the rest of his evening toilet and only took a second longer to check if he needed to shave again. There was some light stubble on his face but nothing too annoying. Strange, John mused to himself as he stared into the mirror, twenty-odd years ago he had hated how slowly his beard grew out. He had envied the boys that had needed to shave twice a day to look presentable and now he was glad that it was enough if he shaved every other day.

_"You have come a long way, Watson," _a voice that sounded like his former commanding officer congratulated him and John smiled at that. Yes, it had been a long way but every step had been worth the effort. John gave himself a thumbs up in the mirror and threw his dressing gown over before leaving the bathroom. He almost collided with Sherlock who was standing on the other side of the door.

"Holy shit! You will give me a heart attack one of these days. I thought you were busy searching my drawers."

"Not as much fun when I have your permission to do it."

John snorted at that. He didn't doubt that Sherlock had gone through his belongings more than once since he had moved in with him. Actually, anyone else would see that as a reason to move out and break all ties with the mad genius but John somehow found it _endearing. _There was probably something wrong with his head for seeing Sherlock's nosy behaviour as proof of his affections for him but John didn't care about that. He had long since given up on living up to other people's definitions of what was _normal. _Life was much easier without always worrying about what others thought about him.

"I also felt like taking a shower as well," Sherlock nodded to the bathroom and John finally noticed the towel his friend was carrying.

"Of course, there should even be enough hot water left for you." John chuckled quietly as Sherlock's face brightened at that. His friend loved to spend hours in the shower as long as the water was above lukewarm. Otherwise he was finished before John could count to hundred.

"I will take care of my arm now." It really wasn't more than a scratch but John didn't want to risk rubbing away at the wound while he was asleep... or indulging in other activities. He just needed some sterile dressing material but there should be some in his first aid kit if Sherlock hadn't used it for an experiment.

"John!"

He turned on his way to his room and raised an eyebrow at how Sherlock was nervously hovering in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Can I still come up to your room after my shower?"

John frowned at the question. He had already established that Sherlock was welcome in his room, hadn't he?! But maybe John hadn't made it clear enough that his friend could also spent the night there if he wanted. For him the invitation had implied as much but it might have been too subtle for Sherlock.

"You can even share a bed with me if you like." John didn't want to leave any room for misinterpretations as he repeated his implied offer from before. "And next time you could also join me in the shower. It saves time."

Sherlock's eyes widened almost comically at that offer before he managed to conceal his surprise and smirked:"I somehow doubt your claim about saving time this way but we can certainly test that theory."

John grinned in return and only remembered that he had wanted to take care of his wound when the bathroom door had closed behind Sherlock. But the fantasy of his friend surprising him in the shower by stepping up behind him under the hot spray was just too distracting. John would have welcomed the opportunity to let his hands roam over Sherlock's wet body. And although he wasn't that found of shower sex - too slippery and always too cold for one participant - he would have given it a try with Sherlock.

_"Get your mind out of the gutter, Watson!" _

John shook his head to push images of Sherlock on his knees in the shower out of his mind. It was much too early in their relationship to act on such fantasies. They had only kissed for the first time not twenty-four hours ago after all. Maybe they should wait with such things till they had been naked in the same room at least once. At least that fantasy would be fulfilled soon - probably.

John frowned slightly as he entered his room and shrugged his dressing gown off. He got the first aid kit - there was still some dressing material left - and took care of his wound on autopilot. Was he coming on Sherlock too fast? His friend had appeared to be very much in favour of taking him to bed right away this afternoon. Somehow though, John couldn't shake the notion that Sherlock was getting more nervous about having sex with him the realer the notion became. Or maybe that was just a wrong conclusion on John's part. Only because Sherlock didn't appear used to flirting didn't mean that he was nervous about having sex. Or he was just too tired for anything tonight.

John finished dressing the wound and put away the first aid kit before he glanced down at himself and pondered an important question: Should he put on some clothes or not? If he stayed completely naked it would convey certain expectations and pressure Sherlock into doing _something_. So no, staying completely naked was out of the question but what to wear?

Pants sounded like a good place to start and John even found himself one of his nicer pairs and put them on before he glanced at the drawer with his shirts. Any other day he would have put one on but it would be unnecessary stress on his arm and shoulder if he had to take it off again soon. A guy could still hope, right. Fleetingly John considered his pyjama bottoms but in the end decided that pants were enough. It wasn't like Sherlock hadn't seen him with a bare chest before.

Somehow John managed to withstand the temptation to check himself out in the mirror and instead settled on his bed to browse on his phone. He knew what he looked like after all so there was no need to agonize over his body. John had done enough of that in his younger years and he wasn't about to take this habit back up again just too worry about the sparse hair on his chest or the little extra fat around his belly and hips. He knew it was there but it didn't bother him anymore.

John searched around the internet until he found an interesting article about the newest cancer therapy and started to read. When he was halfway through it, steps sounded on the stairs and John put his phone aside just as Sherlock entered the room.

"I hope that's fine?" Sherlock nodded down at himself and John could barely stop himself from licking his lips as he followed the gesture with his eyes. Like himself his friend had decided to wear pants - or rather briefs - that didn't leave much to the imagination. John had never been overly fond of black silk briefs but on Sherlock they looked... _inspiring_. But John had yet to find an article of clothing that didn't look good on his friend. Even the blue dressing gown Sherlock had shrugged on appeared sexy when he wore it. Or maybe that was just John... or the way the fabric parted on Sherlock's chest and his crotch as it was only loosely tied.

"John?"

Sherlock fidgeted nervously in the doorway and John recalled his friend's former question. Right, he should stop ogling Sherlock and instead pay more attention to what was really important although he didn't understand why his friend needed reassurance about his choice of clothing.

"It's fine," John started and then shook his head as he realised that such meagre praise wouldn't do. "You look great." He got up from the bed and moved to stand in front of Sherlock. "You are beautiful."

John had to force himself to look up at Sherlock's face as he complimented him instead of gazing at the bare skin right in front of his nose. It was worth the effort though as John noticed the instant the tension vanished Sherlock's expression and a smile appeared in its stead.

"You are very handsome yourself, Dr. Watson."

John grinned and stretched to steal a kiss from Sherlock's lips. One kiss that was all he was after but when John tried to withdraw Sherlock followed his movement and caught his lips once more. John was far from complaining though as his friend's hands settled on his back and in his hair and drew him closer. He simply hadn't wanted to put any pressure on Sherlock but he was more than fine with him signalling his consent for more in this way.

The dressing gown came loose as John sneaked a hand underneath the fabric to stroke along his lover's back and hold him closer to his body. Sherlock sighed happily into the kiss as their chests touched and his grip on John tightened. John couldn't help a small smile as he felt an unmistakable erection press against his belly as he sucked on his lover's tongue. Warmth was also pooling between his legs and John was positive that both their underpants would be lost causes if they didn't get them off soon. Besides... his neck was going to kill him if they didn't get more comfortable soon.

"Let's take this," John slipped a teasing finger underneath the waistband of Sherlock's briefs, "Off and get into bed."

"Only if you take off yours as well." Sherlock gave his arse a playful squeeze.

"I hadn't planned on leaving them on." John grinned and stepped back to step out of his pants rather unceremoniously. They had already become damp in the front and John threw them aside with a small sigh. He should have just remained naked from the start.

"John..."

He looked up at Sherlock's confused voice. His lover had managed to take his clothes off as well but now stood frozen with his briefs in hand and stared... at John's crotch. John gulped but withstood the temptation to cover himself with his hands. There was nothing to be ashamed of - nothing to hide. He knew how the curls of his pubic hair looked as they covered his most intimate place. John was also aware of what lay hidden underneath them and that Sherlock was privy to the same information. But certainly that didn't surprise him. Sherlock had said that he had deduced everything about John so it couldn't come as a surprise to him that John didn't - couldn't - have an erection that matched his own... right?

John felt a surge of panic well up in him as he realised that he couldn't answer this question with certainty. He had always assumed that Sherlock was aware of his gender identity but he had never asked or told him about this part of himself. Admittedly, John had tried today but Sherlock had interrupted him so that had to mean that he already knew... or not?! Thoughts and fears started to swirl around in his mind even as John tried to keep calm. It was a losing battle though. How could it not when it seemed like Sherlock had come to his room with no clue about this part of John?! Worse even, that also meant that everything they had established so far had been built on a misunderstanding.

John opened his mouth to say something - anything really - but Sherlock beat him to it. "I never knew that your pubic hair was red."

"God, Sherlock..." A relieved laugh bubbled up in John's chest. Here he had thought that he had made a terrible miscalculation when actually his lover was just being his typical self.

"No really, it's quite fascinating," Sherlock cocked his head to the side as he looked at the red curls and John wouldn't have been surprised if he had dropped to his knees to sample them, "Usually the pubic hair of an individual is of the same colour as their scalp hair but... Mhmpf."

John chuckled into the kiss. If he had known how easy it would be to shut Sherlock up with a simple kiss then he would have done it much sooner.

Their kiss grew passionate fast as naked bodies pressed together and John soon found himself stirring them in the direction of the bed. Somehow they managed to stumbled onto the mattress with neither one of them obtaining any bruises in their haste. Hands roamed over every part of naked skin that was available and a moan echoed between them as Sherlock squeezed John's arse. It wasn't possible to say for sure whom of them the sound had escaped but John felt his lover's erection twitch against his thigh as his own flesh pulsed with arousal.

"Let me," John whispered against Sherlock's lips and reached down between them for his lover's hard length. It was then that he was reminded of their encounter with the thugs earlier as his shoulder gave a painful twinge. John winced and clenched his hand into a fist against Sherlock's hipbone. Fuck, here he finally was with Sherlock in his bed and his damn shoulder had to act up. And all just because he hadn't walked away from some stupid insults. If he only could reach with his right hand but this was nearly impossible with him mostly lying on his right side and even if they changed sides... John wasn't as good with his non-dominant hand. Still it would be better than just lying here and...

"Turn on your back."

John followed Sherlock's order on instinct before he had even thought about it. He raised an eyebrow at his lover though as he straddled John.

"Your shoulder is obviously hurting you and staying on your side or overusing it isn't going to make it better."

Sherlock had a point there, John gave him that much but...

"I know that you usually take a very active role during sex..."

"Do you, now?" John couldn't help himself asking even as he stroked Sherlock's cheek gently to let him know that he was merely teasing him. His lover wasn't wrong after all. John enjoyed pleasuring his lovers and he had never minded giving a little more than he received at the end.

"As I said," Sherlock cleared his throat and John marvelled at the heat that rose in his cheeks, "You are usually very giving but you are hurt tonight and therefore," he faltered for a second but then seemed to gather his courage as he continued, "It's only logical that I take care of your needs first and foremost."

"Logical, huh?" The question was delivered in a light tone as John just couldn't help himself but tease his lover a little for his rational explanations even while they were in bed and about to have sex. Therefore John watched in surprise as the blush in Sherlock's cheeks deepened even farther and he averted his eyes to a point on John's chest. If it hadn't been for the last part John would have believed that his lover was embarrassed but this looked more like shame than anything else.

Before John could even think of anything to say about this reaction though Sherlock was gazing back at him again with a determined expression on his face. "I want to explore your body and touch you everywhere. I intend to kiss you and taste you and then make you come until you can't take it anymore."

John blinked. The sentiment behind Sherlock's words sounded real enough but the choice of words was off.

"Please, John. I have dreamed about this for so long."

Christ, John swallowed hard as he met wide pleading eyes. Sherlock could never learn how effective his puppy eyes were on him or John would become a slave to all of his lover's wits. At least this time the plea had sounded much more like Sherlock and John shoved all of his worries aside to be analyzed at a later date as he drew Sherlock down for a long kiss.

He sighed happily as Sherlock settled most of his weight on top of him and their bare chests touched as they continued kissing. The tension that had crept unnoticed into his body during their short conversation evaporated and John's desire spiked again. It was the same for Sherlock if the growing hardness against John's thigh was anything to go by. It was with great unwillingness - at least on John's part - that their lips parted as Sherlock let his mouth wander to other places.

Vaguely, John wondered if his lover had a map of possible erogenous zones of his body stored in his Mind Palace. There was no other explanation as to how Sherlock managed to lick and suck exactly the spot on his neck that made John wriggle beneath him as more heat rushed between his legs. Or how Sherlock knew to graze his right ear lobe with his teeth while leaving his left one completely alone.

John gave up on wondering about his lover's methods as he rubbed his nipples with wet fingers while nipping and sucking his way from one hipbone to the other. No lover had ever managed to turn John on so fast and completely. Not that he hadn't already been turned on the minute he had started to kiss Sherlock but this was different. John couldn't remember the last time he had felt so close to the edge so earlier in the game.

"Can I suck you off?"

John barely suppressed a groan as he gazed at Sherlock who sat between his legs and was looking at him with a mixture of hunger and hope. Fucking hell but John didn't remember if anyone had ever looked at him quite like that. Not that his former lovers hadn't happily touched him but this... this was different. _This _was Sherlock.

"Yes. Suck me. Touch me. Wherever you like."

There was no verbal response to his words instead John felt a nudge against his hips and he spread his legs and lifted his pelvis without questioning it. Warm fingers parted his pubic hair and John felt hot breath against his most private place before a wet tongue touched it. A content sigh fell from John's lips. It had been so long. So fucking long since the last time and this... He didn't get farther with his thoughts as Sherlock chose this moment to focus his tongue completely on his clit. John couldn't say how exactly his lover was doing it but the mixture of wet licks and careful suckling brought him faster to the edge than he had ever managed himself. Maybe it was all the built up desire for this brilliant man between his legs or Sherlock's technique was really that perfect or maybe it was both but John didn't care that much about an answer. His sole focus was on the heat that pooled between his legs and the sparks that were sent from his clit through his whole body in growing intensity until John couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh fuck," was all John managed as his orgasm ripped through him. The muscles of his lower body contracted with the intensity of it and his toes curled involuntarily as waves of pure pleasure washed over him. He shuddered as Sherlock kept licking him even after his orgasm had died down.

"Too much?" Sherlock's words were muffled as he kept his mouth close to John's still pulsing flesh and John shook his head against the pillow. "No, it's not that."

He faltered. It was always a little awkward let a new lover know that they could still keep going. That in fact he would enjoy another round - including an orgasm - very much as his arousal hadn't ebbed away after only one.

"You want to come again." Sherlock's hoarse baritone sent a shiver through John's body. "I would enjoy to fulfil your wish very much."

"God, Sherlock!" John clenched the sheet in his hands. He had always doubted that it was possible to come from words alone but if his lover kept on talking in that tone of voice then John believed it possible to prove himself wrong.

"Yes, please do," he added for good measure and heard a chuckle from between his legs before a skilled tongue worked its magic once more. John would have been perfectly happy with a repeat of the former performance but when he felt two fingers rub against the opening of his vagina he groaned in hopeful anticipation.

"Yes," John hissed and then repeated the word with a little more force when the fingers still didn't push inside. It had taken him years to come to accept that he enjoyed being fingered and he wasn't about to deny himself that pleasure when it was so freely offered. Sometimes John would like to go back to his younger self to tell him that it didn't make him less of a man to take pleasure from whichever part of his body he liked. At least he had realised it before today otherwise he would have missed out on something.

Sherlock wasn't aimlessly poking around inside him like so many - men and women alike - had done instead he was... _playing_ him. Yes, John couldn't think of another word to describe how skilled fingers stroked his inner walls while a wet tongue kept pleasuring his clit. Between the two points of stimulation John's arousal climbed higher once more and it intensified even farther when Sherlock moved to push his fingers deeper into him. His feet started to tingle as his flesh pulsed in preparation of his second orgasm. He was so close. He could almost feel it and imagine what it would feel like. Just a little more and then...

John groaned in frustration when Sherlock withdrew his fingers and stopped the ministrations with his tongue. He couldn't be serious. John was about to explode from built up pleasure and Sherlock...

"Oh dear fucking God," John breathed out as his lover's mouth sucked on his opening and his tongue pushed inside him while wet fingers started to rub his clit at the same time. Fuck but that felt even better than before.

John had a hard time keeping his hips still while his whole body screamed at him to push up into Sherlock's mouth as every one of his nerve cells sang with pleasure. He was desperate now. Desperate for release. Just one tiny push and John knew he would be lost. In the end even one look at Sherlock kneeling between his legs and with his head popping up and down was enough to send John tumbling over the edge. He felt like his whole body convulsed with the force of his orgasm as pure bliss surged through him.

John couldn't say how much time - if seconds or minutes - had passed until he got his breathing back under control and opened his eyes. His gaze fell on his lover who was still seated between his legs but meeting John's eyes with undisguised hunger.

"Come here." The last word had barely left his lips before he found himself with an armful of mad genius.

"Kiss me." John grinned at the surprise on Sherlock's face that was soon replaced by delight before he obliged.

A moan escaped John's lips as he sucked Sherlock's tongue in his mouth and tasted himself. He buried his hands in thick curls to deepen the kiss and let his other hand reach down to Sherlock's arse. A groan echoed between them as John squeezed one plush cheek and his lover grinded down against him. His hard erection rubbed between John's legs and a lazy shudder ran through his body as it slid over his still sensitive clit.

"John," Sherlock whispered and nipped his way from his lips to his ear, "Do you think you could come again?"

He pondered the question for a second even as he bared his throat in invitation for Sherlock to lick and suck on the exposed skin. His flesh was still tingling from the last time he had come and the rest of his body was already starting to feel heavy with post-coital exhaustion but... he was still aroused. It might be due to how long he had gone without sex with a partner or because of how much he desired Sherlock but the end result was the same.

"Yes, I think so."

"Good," Sherlock hummed against his neck, "I love to watch you come."

John's only reply was to claim Sherlock's lips in a bruising kiss as blood rushed between his legs and made his flesh throb with want. When they broke the kiss they were both flushed and breathing heavily but even though some part of Sherlock's brain still seemed to be in working order. At least his next question allowed such an assumption.

"Do we need a condom?"

John startled. Was Sherlock assuming that he would get to fuck him?! Because if that was the case then his lover was in for a disappointing surprise. In his youth, John had tried a variety of sex acts and he had soon realised that he didn't enjoy being on the receiving end of penetrative sex. It was one reason why John usually preferred to date women because most men assumed that he wouldn't top because he didn't have a cock. At least not one made of flesh. John had a perfectly functioning strap-on in the top drawer of his wardrobe.

"I don't want to... penetrate you." Sherlock's voice cut through John's thoughts and made him marvel at his lover again. It was almost like he could read his mind. "But I have something in mind and... it might be messy."

John relaxed and shot Sherlock a grin as he carded his fingers through silky curls. "Messy is not a problem. There is no risk of pregnancy and if you are clean," Sherlock nodded, "Feel free to go ahead."

There were no more words spoken as their lips found each other again in a passionate kiss. The erection that was pressed against him grew to full hardness once more and John felt his own excitement increase at the sensation. He didn't let go of Sherlock's lips when his lover sneaked a hand between them nor when two fingers pushed lightly into him only to spread his own juice over his clit and the surrounding flesh. His mind wouldn't come up with what Sherlock had planned until a thick cock started to rub over the freshly lubricated places.

God, John sucked hard on his lover's tongue and grabbed onto his shoulders when Sherlock started to move against him. The sensation didn't only allow John's own arousal to rise slowly but the mere knowledge that Sherlock's cock was moving so intimately against him was a turn on.

"That feels fantastic." Sherlock expressed what John had only thought as he started to move faster against him.

"Oh God, yes!" Stars exploded behind John's closed eyelids as his third orgasm took him by surprise and left him gasping for air.

"Fuck, John!"

John could only hold Sherlock close as his lover came between them with a hoarse scream and collapsed in a trembling mess on top of him. For some time the room was only filled with their heavy breathing. John wouldn't have minded staying a little longer like this but his shoulder was starting to protest the added weight of one consulting detective. Before he could so much as nudge Sherlock though his lover had already mumbled an apology and rolled off him.

"Nothing to apologize for," John assured him as he reached for the tissues on the nightstand, "Although we really made a mess."

"I didn't hear you complaining before." John turned his head to look at his lover but after seeing his grin decided that he had only imagined the defensive undertone in Sherlock's voice.

"I am not complaining." Although it was a little annoying to wipe come from his nether regions and belly. "This was amazing."

"You think so?"

John frowned at the note of disbelief in Sherlock's voice but he couldn't muster the energy to wonder what had brought it on. Instead John caught his lips in a gentle kiss which was interrupted by a big yawn.

"Sorry, I am tired out." John winked sheepishly at Sherlock and threw the tissues in the general direction of the floor before he drew the covers over both of them. "Let's get some sleep and maybe..."

"Your shoulder won't hurt so badly anymore in the morning."

It took John a second to understand what his shoulder had got to do with anything but when he realised what Sherlock was getting at he grinned. "I am sure I can make you scream even without overexerting my shoulder."

"That remains to be proven," Sherlock mumbled as he snuggled up against John's side already half asleep.

"Git," John whispered back but allowed his thoughts of how adorable Sherlock looked to colour his words. If he were to fall asleep to this sight every night from now on then he would count himself the luckiest man on earth.


	3. New Approach

**Author Notes**: As promised the last chapter of this story. I am working on my next story already so I hope it won't be too long until I manage to post something again.^^

For now, enjoy this chapter! =)

**Trigger Warning**: Discussion of a past abusive relationship!

**New Approach**

John woke to the illuminated screen of a phone. Typical, Sherlock couldn't even stay a few hours in bed with John after their first time together without getting bored. This first - slightly bitter - thought was soon followed by the realisation that his lover was still in bed with him at all. Sherlock might have got bored but instead of running off to do one of his experiments in the kitchen he had stayed with John. Yes, he was reading something on his phone but he was still there. Warmth fluttered in John's stomach at the discovery and he shifted closer to Sherlock to give him a kiss.

"Good morning," John whispered as he leaned to press a kiss to the corner of Sherlock's lips. "How have you..." He interrupted himself midsentence as his eyes fell on the screen of the phone.

_The steps I took to become the man I always knew I was_

John blinked at the title of the blog. Obviously it was about the experiences of a transgender man. That much even he could deduce with sleep still clinging to his eyelids but there was no way he could figure out why Sherlock thought this an interesting reading right now.

"Why are you reading this?" Best just to ask before he jumped to a conclusion.

"Research." The _obviously _was heavily implied and John rolled his eyes. "I gathered as much but why now? I assumed you would have done all your research as soon as you found out that I am transgender."

The second the words had left his mouth John knew that something wasn't right. He couldn't exactly pinpoint what gave it away. It might have been the way the mood between them shifted from sleepily happy to tense or how Sherlock averted his eyes and nagged at his lower lip. In the end it didn't matter as much as the words that tumbled from his lover's lips a moment later.

"I just found out about it."

The simple sentence pressed the air from John's lungs as he struggled to comprehend what that meant. Sherlock had only just learned that John was transgender. Certainly he didn't mean that...

"I didn't know before... you took off your pants." Sherlock's voice was small. His eyes were fixed on a point to his right and he was clutching his phone like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was. John wasn't sure about it. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. Here he had assumed that Sherlock had deduced his gender identity in the first week they had moved in together only to realise that... his lover had been caught completely unaware last night.

"Why," John swallowed against the lump in his throat, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Certainly there had been an opening for Sherlock to make his surprise known. John still remembered the moment when his lover had stared at his crotch in wonder. It would have been easy for him then to tell John the real reason for his surprise instead of making something up about his pubic hair. Not that it wasn't red but... that wasn't the point.

"I didn't want to disappoint you."

The words were like a slap to the face. A pained gasp was torn from John's lips as he stared at Sherlock in disbelief. At the sound blue eyes finally looked up to meet his and something akin to horror appeared to dawn in their depths.

"No, John. I didn't mean it like that. I..."

"Get out!" John hissed as he grabbed a handful of the covers to hide the trembling of his hands.

"John, please let me..."

"I said: Get out!"

John didn't know what came over him as he pushed Sherlock from the bed. He simply wanted to be alone. He especially didn't want to be around his - lover? friend? - flatmate right now. The loud thud as Sherlock fell to the floor with a pained gasp still came as a surprise to John. Betrayed eyes looked up at him from where their owner lay sprawled on the floor before Sherlock all but bolted from the room. John couldn't help but flinch when first the door to their flat and then the one downstairs were slammed shut. Sherlock had left.

_"Of course he left. You threw him out, Watson!"_

"I had a damn good reason for that," he defended himself hoarsely against the accusation from his own mind.

_"Did you?"_

"Yes," John hissed through clenched teeth and the voice in his mind grew silent.

A few deep breaths later and John didn't feel like smashing something to pieces anymore. No, he only felt like lying down in his bed and cry... but he wouldn't. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as he pushed past the lump in his throat and the weight on his chest to stop the embarrassing burning in his eyes. He wasn't a woman. He wouldn't cry.

_"Didn't you give up on that stupid notion years ago? Men are allowed to cry as well, you know."_

"Fuck off!" The anger even directed at himself helped to push the tears away before they could fall.

Yes, he was angry John admitted to himself. Angry at himself for not telling Sherlock that he was transgender and believing that his friend had deduced it already. Angry at Sherlock for not telling him that he didn't know. Angry for believing that... this thing between them was real. Because it wasn't.

John blinked rapidly down at his own hands. He believed his friend that he had harboured feelings for John for a long time. That wasn't even the point but rather that Sherlock hadn't _known _all this time. His friend hadn't fallen in love with him, not really. He had fallen in love with a picture of John he had created himself with his deductions. It might be more accurate than anything anyone else had ever imagined about John but it was still flawed. Extremely flawed even.

A bitter laugh fell from John's lips and echoed hauntingly in the empty room. Sherlock had as much as admitted that he had only slept with him to humour John.

_"He didn't say that."_

John ignored the annoying voice that attempted to reason with him. He should probably be thankful that Sherlock hadn't reacted differently. John hadn't been in any state to get into a physical fight last night.

_"As if that was ever a fear."_

Admittedly it hadn't been. Sherlock wasn't someone who went around throwing punches at people for not living up to his expectations. No, he would rather be _kind _to someone. Obviously Sherlock's _kindness _wasn't only limited to informing Molly about the sexual preferences of her boyfriend since he had even slept with John for the same reason.

_"You are being unfair."_

Was he? John didn't know. He was certainly exhausted and disappointed. His shoulder was hurting and his pubic hair was sticky with dried come. The box of tissues was still on his nightstand and John reached for them in an attempt do _something. _He only managed to pull out a few of his curls while trying to clean up more of their mess. A shower was in order but... John didn't want to get up. Specifically, he didn't want to get naked under a stream of water and run his hands all over himself. It would be too easy to find everything that was wrong with him then.

_"There is nothing wrong with you."_

The chuckle didn't hold any kindness as it left John's lips. He had told himself over and over again that there was nothing wrong with his body. That he was happy with the way he looked until John had believed it himself. Oh, there was really nothing wrong with his face or his chest - except for his bullet scar - or even his overall height but... John pressed a hand between his legs. This was wrong. This... absence of something essential for most men was wrong. He withdrew his hand before he could scratch the sensitive flesh with his fingernails. As tempting as it seemed to dig his fingernails into the skin until it was bloodied John knew that it wouldn't help. He would only be in more pain later. It wasn't worth it... he had tried.

A sigh echoed against the walls of his bedroom. His anger was mostly gone. In its stead defeat was taking root and John was too tired to fight against it. Usually he also wouldn't allow himself to imagine how his life would have been different if he had been assigned male at birth. Would he have still gone to medical school and signed up for the army if he had been raised as a boy?

Probably.

He might have had a slightly better relationship with his parents and Harry if he hadn't needed to destroy their view of him by transitioning... or maybe not. His Dad had always drunk too much and his sister had already started to follow in his footsteps when John hadn't even figured out why he hated to be called _Miss_. So yes, maybe nothing would have changed there. Also seeing that the bullet would have hit him no matter what John didn't see how that part of his life would have changed.

_"See, no reason to bemoan the fact that you don't have a cock. You wouldn't be a different man with one."_

"But maybe one that Sherlock would want to keep as a lover." As soon as the words were spoken John knew that this was the real reason behind his returned dislike for his body. If John had a cock, he would have fulfilled Sherlock's expectations. His friend wouldn't have had to humour him by forcing himself to have sex with John.

_"He didn't appear to feel forced when he came all over you," _his mind pointed out, _"And there was no need for him to give you three orgasm and yet he did. Doesn't sound like something someone who wanted the sex to be over would do." _

John frowned at that logic. It held some truth but... No, he shook his head. This was Sherlock he was thinking about here. His friend always had perfect control over his body's reactions so the chances that his enthusiasm had been faked were high.

_"You just want to be miserable, don't you?"_

John didn't get to reply to that assessment as a knock sounded on his door. His head snapped up and although he knew that it couldn't be anyone else his eyes still widened in disbelief at the sight of Sherlock in his open doorway.

"May I come in?"

He was carrying a tray with coffee, scones and scrambled eggs. It was such an unexpected sight that John couldn't do anything but nod. Only when Sherlock had set the tray down on the bed and stood awkwardly next to it did it occur to him to say something.

"You made breakfast." John winced at the unnecessary comment as the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled his nose.

"No, I didn't."

John glanced up at Sherlock who was nervously shifting from one leg to the other.

"This certainly looks like breakfast to me." John pointed at the scrambled eggs with bacon and Sherlock shrugged.

"Mrs. Hudson made it after I... got back."

Right, Sherlock had stormed out of the house after John had thrown him out. Guilt settled in John's stomach at the memory of his friend lying on the floor and looking at him with betrayed eyes. He had certainly overreacted by pushing Sherlock out of the bed like that. John opened his mouth to apologize but was interrupted by a sheet of paper that was held in front of his nose.

"What...?"

"I made you a list."

"A list?"

John frowned but took the paper from Sherlock. He almost choked on his coffee as he read the title on the top of it:

_Reasons why I love You_

"Sherlock..." John didn't know what he wanted to say so it was a relief when his friend interrupted him with an impatient sigh.

"Just read it."

So John did. It was a long list written in Sherlock's terrible scrawl and John took his time to read it.

_Your loyalty_ was written right on top of the list followed closely by _"your trust in me" _and _"that you don't try to change me."_ John also found that his _"love for danger", "his sense of humour" _and his _"good aim with a gun" _had made it on the list. Just like his ability to _"make fantastic tea"_ and that he had _"never hurt me."_

John finished reading and came back to stare at that point. It made him feel uneasy. The whole list made him feel uneasy but mostly because Sherlock had obviously poured his whole heart into it before handing it to John. This though... this point implied that others had hurt Sherlock and that he didn't take it for granted that someone would... _not hurt _him.

Maybe he is just referring to the Yarders calling him names John tried to calm himself but he didn't really believe it. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he opened his mouth to ask Sherlock but his friend started speaking before he even had a chance to get one syllable out.

"You see a penis didn't make it onto the list."

John blinked. Repeated the words in his mind and blinked again. It took him what felt like ages until he remembered why Sherlock had written a list in the first place.

_"A list of why he _loves _you,"_ his mind pointed out to him with vehemence.

Sherlock obviously took John's silence as his cue to continue as he started to pace the length of the room. "I deduced that you were mostly worried because you feared that I had entered this relationship with wrong expectations but I can assure you that it doesn't make a difference to me if you have a penis or a vagina."

"But you fell in love with me believing that I had a penis," John couldn't help but point out. He believed Sherlock that he loved him for all the reasons he had written down on the list but it felt impossible to wrap his head around the idea that his genitals wouldn't matter at all.

"Wrong." Agitated hands ran through messy curls. "I fell in love with you long before I knew if I even was interested in having sex with you."

"But when you started to imagine us together you imagined me with a penis."

"For Christ's sake!" John jerked in surprise as Sherlock cursed and tore at his hair before he took a deep breath to calm down again. "Yes, I imagined that you had a penis because I was theorizing without all the relevant facts. It's still not important to me. I know," Sherlock added so quietly that John had to strain his ears to even hear him, "That a lot of people care what the genitals of their lovers look like but that was never important to me."

One part of John wanted to continue arguing with Sherlock until he found a hole in his friend's reasoning. It was the part of him that liked to dig his fingernails into his own flesh till it hurt. John ignored it. Instead he listened to the part of him that was urging him to finally ask about much more important things. "What's important for you then? When you have sex with someone, I mean."

Pale blue eyes shifted to look at the floor. "Trust. I need to trust someone that they respect my boundaries and stop when I ask them to."

John's mind went blank at that. The implications behind Sherlock's words were too terrible to look at them closely but John knew that this was exactly what he needed to do.

"You," he started only to have his words swapped away by a flood of sentences.

"I wasn't raped if you are worried about that. When I was at university I got interested in sex and I started to experiment with people to figure out what a liked. One day I met Victor and we... started to date." There was a brief pause between his words before Sherlock obviously forced himself to continue. "Victor liked to experiment in the bedroom. It was fun at first. Just some mild role-play and bondage but then he started to get interested in other stuff." Sherlock took a shaky breath. "Wipes, paddles, all kind of anal toys, nipple clips and... humiliation games."

John reached out his hand as Sherlock blanched at some memory and swayed on the spot and his friend stumbled the few steps to sit down on the bed.

"You don't need to tell me everything if it's too much for you." John didn't add that he had already heard enough to justify to himself to beat that guy into a bloodied pulp. Not that he was against people enjoying their kinks but... from the way Sherlock looked and acted it was obvious that he hadn't enjoyed it.

"I want you to know." Blue eyes begged John to listen and he nodded for Sherlock to continue. "I didn't enjoy our games but I thought that I had to make an effort for his sake. I liked Victor, he was the only friend I had at the time and it wasn't... it wasn't like he really hurt me."

"Until he did."

Sherlock nodded to his feet at John's deduction. "I had a safe word. I had never used it before but... one day it really hurt what he did and I... I used the safe word."

"But he didn't stop." John congratulated himself to how even his voice sounded although he felt like screaming. Sherlock had said that he hadn't been raped but John wasn't so certain about that. He didn't know what that guy had done to Sherlock exactly and he wasn't sure if it would be wise for him to know all the details but... even if no penetration whatsoever had been involved the bastard still hadn't stopped when he had been asked to. For John that counted as rape even if a judge wouldn't agree with him.

He was so focused on getting the rage that had surged up in him back under control that he almost missed Sherlock's next words. "Victor said that he didn't stop because it was my punishment for... not deducing correctly what he wanted."

Oh fuck, everything finally made sense as the final puzzle pieces clicked into place. John had wondered why Sherlock had seemed so insecure in certain moments yesterday but now he understood. His friend had feared to make a mistake by wrongly deducing what John wanted and John... He had expected Sherlock to see right through him without having to say anything.

"I am such an idiot!"

"No, you aren't. Okay, sometimes you are," Sherlock added with the ghost of a smile on his lips, "But you didn't do anything wrong."

John shook his head. "Yes, I did. I didn't tell you that I was transgender and didn't give you the chance to tell me all of this," he gestured to the list in his lap, "Yesterday. Instead I assumed that you already knew and..."

"But you tried to tell me and I interrupted you." Sherlock sighed. "I went over our interactions in my head and it became obvious that you intended to let me know till I convinced you that you didn't have to."

John frowned and then had to admit that Sherlock was right. He had tried to tell him but still...

"Christ, we really made a mess out of things."

After they had waited for years to get together, they should have taken the time to talk about the change in their relationship before having sex. Then John wouldn't have overreacted this morning - which he definitely had - and Sherlock wouldn't have felt like he had to deduce all of John's needs.

"You didn't feel forced into anything last night or did you?" John couldn't mask the panic that had crept into his voice at that thought. Seeing as Sherlock had stated that he hadn't wanted to disappoint him and in light of what he had just learned about his lover's history regarding sex it wouldn't be too farfetched to assume that Sherlock had felt forced to pleasure him.

Thankfully, Sherlock shook his head before John could work himself into a panic attack. "No, I enjoyed what we did. I thought you noticed."

Pale blue eyes held the hint of a teasing smile and John's lips twitched up in response before he sobered once more. What should they do now? He believed Sherlock that he loved him and that he didn't care that John was transgender.

_"Finally," _his mind threw in and John rolled his eyes at that.

Fine, he had overreacted but if not for that misunderstanding then Sherlock might have never told him about his past and it would have come to bit them in the arses. In fact there was still the very real possibility of something from their pasts coming back to haunt them. John had collected enough triggers from past relationships to start a collection and Sherlock appeared to carry a lot of dead weight with him as well.

"We can't go on like this," John murmured to himself. He only really realised that he had spoken out loud when a harsh inhale sounded next to him. It almost sounded like a sob. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as John looked up to meet the crushed gaze of his lover. Blue eyes were burning with unshed tears even as Sherlock's lower lip trembled.

"No please, John." One pale hand reached out to him but fell onto the covers between them midway. "I promise I will try harder. Don't give up on... us just yet."

Horror dawned on John's face as he listened to Sherlock's broken pleas. Without thinking he grabbed his lover's hand and cradled it between his own. "I didn't mean... I don't want to end our relationship but," John licked his lips and stroked his lover's hand tenderly, "We need to communicate better if we want this to work. It would probably be wise to take it slow for a while."

The words cost John as he thought back to the fantastic sex from the night before and Sherlock grimaced although the panic had at least vanished from his features. "So no sex until we have worked through all of our issues?" Sherlock sounded sceptical and John couldn't hold it against him. That option didn't sound very alluring.

"We would be old and grey by then but we need to let each other know where our boundaries lay before we start anything."

Sherlock sighed at that but nodded. "I guess you are right but... do we have to do all of these now?"

It was tempting to say yes to get it all over with but that wouldn't be wise. Sherlock looked as exhausted as John felt. They both needed a break before they were up for any more heart-to-heart talks. Besides they had just decided to take things slow so they should probably stick to that decision.

"No," John let go of Sherlock's hand to put the breakfast tray onto the floor and then padded the place next to him. "Let's just rest some more for now."

"The eggs will get cold," Sherlock pointed out but lay down under the covers next to John.

"I am sure Mrs. Hudson has some more." John drew Sherlock against his side and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I am sorry I pushed you out of the bed."

His curls tickled John's chin as Sherlock shook his head. "It's fine. You lost your temper and took me by surprise."

"Still, it won't happen again. I will never hurt you that's a promise. I love you too much to ever forgive myself if I did."

"You love me." Sherlock's voice was full of wonder and John realised with shame that he hadn't said it even once although his lover had barred his heart before his eyes.

"Yes, I do. I love you and we will make this work."

The last part was as much a promise to Sherlock as to himself and John intended to keep it. And when Sherlock smiled against his chest and whispered: "I love you, too," John was sure that it was be possible. As long as they trusted each other and made an effort to communicate their wishes and fears they would be just fine.


End file.
